


Bind Me, Tie Me

by neversaydie



Series: Kink Falls AM [2]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Disorder, BDSM, Bondage, Closeted Character, Dom/sub Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon, Subspace, brief self harm mention, grey-ace sammy, jack x research is the real ship, shotgun days, subby!sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 13:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: The first time Jack shoves Sammy against a wall and holds him down is a total accident.Shotgun is starting to pick up a solid fan following on his latest digital platform, having fully made the leap from journalism to talk radio (Lily still isn't speaking to them). He hosts at least one broadcast a day now, and is increasingly being booked for live events and guest slots on other shows. There's even talk of a Saturday night show in the works, which would be a dream come true.So, Shotgun is thriving. Sammy, on the other hand… isn't.[in which Jack and Sammy discover bondage, but it’s mostly about anxiety and kink, with a sprinkle of grey-ace pondering thrown in for good measure.]





	Bind Me, Tie Me

The first time they do it is a total accident.

Shotgun is starting to pick up a solid fan following on his latest digital platform, having fully made the leap from journalism to talk radio (Lily still isn't speaking to them). He hosts at least one broadcast a day now, and is increasingly being booked for live events and guest slots on other shows. There's even talk of a Saturday night show in the works, which would be a dream come true.

So, Shotgun is thriving. Sammy, on the other hand… isn't.

The anxiety attacks from their college days - once relegated to something which popped up twice a year at most, usually around having to see family over the holidays - have crept back into being with force. It feels like barely a couple of days go by between serious attacks blowing up into panic now, and the constant concern over when another will strike weighs heavily on them both. Sammy is intensely ashamed of them, which doesn't help, as Jack can only help him out of panic if he actually knows it's happening.

Sammy's mantra is, as long as he's fine in front of a mic, then he's fine. Jack strongly disagrees, but Sammy is so closed off about the whole thing he's got no idea how to address it.

But he's going to have to. Soon. Before the love of his life really gets hurt.

 

"I'm gonna fuck it up," Sammy's really starting to spin out this time, hands trembling hard as he paces. Jack's seen him break things when he's panicking before, and he really hopes that's not about to happen today because this isn't even their green room.

Shotgun is guesting on Smart Marty's Saturday Mornings… and considering Marty is known for his just-broadcastable off-colour jokes about 'social justice culture', it's no wonder Sammy's wound up. Jack doesn't want to be here either, only agreed to the guest spot because they needed to make nice with the network, but at least he doesn't have to sit there and bite his tongue over jokes about how queer people are just looking for ways to be oppressed.

It's 10am and Sammy's already had a few beers to try and calm down, but his blood alcohol content isn't doing anything to prevent this turning into a shitshow. Jack is beginning to wonder if he should just call it now and figure out a way to smooth things over with the network later.

"I'm gonna fuck it all up," Sammy tugs a hand through his hair and starts pacing in the other direction again. Jack is just glad there's nobody else around, because the humiliation factor of losing it in front of an audience only makes things worse. "Everyone's gonna be able to tell I'm a fraud. I'm just faking it. He's gonna tell everyone I'm a fucking- He's gonna call me a- I can't-"

"You're not faking it. You're a good host, you're gonna be fine," Jack tries for calm and measured, wincing when Sammy slams his fist into his own thigh in an effort to calm down and yep, that's been a problem lately too. He's seen the bruises. "Sammy, _please_ don't hurt yourself."

"It's the only thing that makes my stupid-" he punches himself again, completely off the reservation, and Jack's stomach sinks to the floor. This might be the worst he's seen Sammy yet. "Fucking. Head-"

"Sammy, _stop_ ," not knowing what else to do when he's spinning out this badly, Jack takes advantage of the fact he's stronger than his boyfriend - being a dedicated rugby player as opposed to Sammy 'walking is exercise' Stevens - and bodily shoves Sammy into the nearest wall. He catches his arms by the wrists, not caring how tight he's grabbing, and puts his whole weight into pressing Sammy still. "Stop it. You're okay."

"Get off me," Sammy tries to break out of the hold but can't, struggling until he realises he's powerless and… stops. He suddenly stills, chest heaving but all attempts to break away ceased as he looks at Jack helplessly, lost. "Jack…"

"There you go, just breathe for me," surprised by how well the totally improvised technique worked, Jack nonetheless keeps his voice steady as Sammy shudders limp against him, letting his head roll down onto Jack's shoulder. He's acutely aware that this isn't their studio, that they're playing with fire just touching in public, but Jack doesn't really give a good goddamn as long as it stops Sammy hurting himself. "It's okay, I've got you."

Sammy's heart is still pounding - Jack can feel it where they're pressed together, where it's pulsing desperately through his wrists - but the urgent panic fades. It takes a few minutes before Jack is convinced he's over the worst, that there isn't any more violence to come, and lets Sammy go.

Or tries to.

Sammy makes a noise in his throat which sounds an awful lot like a whimper, when Jack loosens his grip, and Jack pulls back just enough to get a good look at him.

Sammy's pupils are blown, and his eyes flutter shut involuntarily when Jack experimentally tightens his hands around his wrists again.

Huh.

Sammy is calmer by the time he hits the air, and even manages to sidestep responding to any of Marty's bullshit with more than changing the subject. Jack watches him from outside the studio, as the guy who almost had a meltdown only half an hour earlier gives one of his best _Shotgun_ performances yet. He also doesn't fail to notice the way Sammy occasionally rubs his thumb over the ring of bruises forming around his wrist, like he's reminding himself they're there.

Jack has some work to do.

 

 

"Listen, I wanna try something. In bed. Sex-wise," Jack eases him into the idea, as Sammy's knee bounces anxiously and he picks at a thread on his jeans. Jesus, he's wound tight right now. They're only sitting on the couch watching a movie and he looks like he could snap. "You can say no, but I want you to hear me out first."

"Okay," Sammy agrees, cautiously. Jack gets a lot of ideas he's not entirely sure about… especially when it comes to sex. Sammy's usually good about trying new things, but they don't often stick.

Sometimes sex for him is just… like doing the dishes. It's a nice thing to do for someone else, but it's not his favourite recreational activity. Although at other times it can be extremely satisfying, depending on the day.

"Remember the green room over at 55.5 last week?" Just the mention of it makes Sammy turn his attention back to his drink and avoid Jack's eyes. Whether he's ashamed of the way panic made him behave or the fact he got turned on by being pinned down is irrelevant - he's always ashamed of everything. "Look, I wanna try tying you up-"

Sammy chokes on his beer.

"You want to _what_?" He spits out, when he can breathe again. Jack's _yikes_ face eases slightly when he gets the chance to explain himself, because Sammy saying anything but 'fuck no' right out of the gate is a promising sign.

"I've been doing some reading-"

"Of course you have."

"And I think you might… it might help you. There are a lot of people who feel like giving up control helps them be less anxious in the rest of their lives," Sammy might scoff at that, but Jack can tell it's piqued his attention if he doesn't immediately bail at the suggestion of relinquishing control. "Come on Sammy, we both know you were into it last week."

"That could have been an adrenaline boner," Sammy mutters, the tips of his ears flushing pink when Jack gives him a Look which says he's fully aware it wasn't an adrenaline boner.

"Babe, please," he sighs quietly when Sammy shrugs, not completely willing to engage with the idea. Jack isn't going to make him try anything he hates, but his reaction last week suggests he _definitely_ didn't hate it. "For me? If you don't like it, we never have to do it again."

"Okay, fine," Sammy relents at his boyfriend's earnest expression. "For you."

"Great, I'll link you to this article-"

"Can't we just…" Sammy makes an odd wiggly motion with his hand, which Jack guesses is supposed to somehow imply sex.

"No," Jack is already retrieving his ever-present laptop from beside the couch, and Sammy takes a long gulp of his beer because, great, sex _and_ homework, his two favourite things. "I've got a feeling you're not gonna want to go into this blind. Considering your other kinks-"

"I don't have kinks."

"-it might be intense," he hands the laptop over, and Sammy suddenly has a lapful of articles about _safe, sane, and consensual_ practice, and something titled _Subbing and You_ staring up at him like a threat. "These are all hypothetical, I just wanna make sure you're into it."

"I…" Sammy scrolls through the first article and his breath catches at the image of a man with a black-gloved hand tight around his throat. Jack doesn't miss the tell. "Okay. Sure. I can do homework."

"Thank you," he kisses Sammy on the cheek and gets comfy again beside him, the movie still playing forgotten in the background. "Also, gotta say, the idea of having you at my mercy? Totally doing it for me."

"Sadist," Sammy grumbles, and starts reading.

 

They take things slow, to begin with.

Jack figures his experiment is working the first time he pins Sammy down when they're lazily making out, and Sammy goes from vaguely disinterested to fucking him into the mattress in a _very_ short space of time. It's astonishing how much the suggestion of Jack being in charge turns Sammy on, and it makes Jack wonder how long this has been a _thing_ he's been repressing.  

The first time they attempt actual bondage, it's after a long and shitty day at work. Shotgun had been more obnoxious than usual, to make up for the fact Sammy has been too anxious to sleep for the past few days and is running on fumes, and snapped at Jack several times on-air about putting the wrong callers through. The car ride home is silent and tense, and Sammy stalks to the fridge to find a beer as soon as they get into the house.

"No," Jack takes the bottle away before he can even take a sip, because if anything is going to get Sammy out of his head tonight, it's going to be him. He sets it down on the counter while Sammy gapes furiously until Jack grabs the back of his neck and he realises, oh, that's what's happening. "Go upstairs and wait for me."

"That's how it is? You're gonna beat my ass when I piss you off and call it kink?" Sammy snaps, and Jack would be hurt by the comment if he didn't already expect the resistance. Sammy always lashes out when he feels cornered, especially when it's a corner of his own making.

"No, I'm gonna help you calm the fuck down because you're being an asshole," he tightens his grip and Sammy goes a little cross-eyed in spite of himself. Yep, it's time. "Go upstairs. I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked you to do as you're told."

Sammy, much to his surprise, goes. Jack leans against the counter for a minute, collecting himself and wondering if he's in over his head, before following.

He finds Sammy sitting on the edge of the bed, practically vibrating out of his skin with tension. He jumps up when Jack enters, coming over to him but stopping just short of touching like he's not sure of his next move. He's all over the place and doesn't know what the hell to do with himself.

Jack can work with that, he's in charge tonight.

"I'm sorry," Sammy blurts out, hands twitching with the need to move somehow. Jack takes pity and kisses him, cupping his face firmly with both hands so he doesn't get any ideas.

"I'm not punishing you, that's not what this is. You understand that, right?" Sammy nods quickly, and Jack makes a mental note to call this off if his boyfriend looks like he's gritting his teeth through any of it, even if he says he's okay. "Get naked and get on the bed."

"I-"

"I don't need you thinking, Stevens," Jack swats him lightly on the ass to get him moving, and watches with affection as Sammy scrambles to obey, almost tripping out of his jeans in the process. Even when he's been an obnoxious prick all evening, Jack can't help but find him way too adorable.

The way he gets all wide-eyed when Jack produces a pair of padded handcuffs from the bedside drawer is also adorable… if a lot less wholesome. He's already hard at the mere anticipation, automatically grabbing Jack's hips when he straddles him fully clothed, denim jeans rough against soft skin. Jack grabs his wrists quickly and pulls his hands away, pinning them up beside Sammy's head and inspiring a surprised noise which sounds suspiciously like a moan.

"I didn't say you could touch, did I?" Jack lets him go and is satisfied to see Sammy's hands stay where he put them. This is already working out better than he expected. He picks up the cuffs again and dangles them in front of his boyfriend's face so he can get a good look. "These aren't gonna hurt, but they will leave marks if you struggle."

Sammy swallows hard, eyes fixed on the cuffs, and Jack can just tell he's wondering whether he wants there to be marks or not. Still too much thinking.

"It's not up to you-" he grabs Sammy's face, pulling his attention back forcibly, and the way he's already going boss-eyed seems to suggest Jack's suspicions were correct… and he was right to research subbing so thoroughly "-if you're gonna struggle or not. The only thing I want you to think about is doing what I say. Hear me?"

"Yeah," Sammy nods when Jack lets his face go - leaving a quickly-fading red handprint behind. He's pale and always bruised easily, something Jack makes a mental note of that he's sure he isn't going to need to think about tonight, at least.

"I'm gonna put these on now," he doesn't say _tell me if you need to stop_ , because he's not sure he trusts Sammy to accurately judge his own limits at the moment. If he says stop, then Jack will, of course, stop, but he's also ready to call time on this without Sammy saying anything at all.

Sammy goes completely still as Jack puts the cuffs on, buckling the first and threading the chain through the headboard slats before fastening the second black ring around Sammy's left wrist. Sammy tests them experimentally, tugging two or three times with increasing force, and shivers when he realises he really can't move.

"Good boy," Jack bends down to kiss him, unsurprised when Sammy passionately returns the gesture, before climbing off him entirely even as his boyfriend cranes up to keep the contact going. Jack pats his cheek affectionately, enjoying the power a little more than he thought he would. "Stay."

Sammy makes a helpless noise in his throat, and Jack finds the fact he's already barely verbal both hot as hell and slightly concerning. He's been involved with kink before, both pre-Sammy and during one of their brief break-ups, in dominant and submissive roles as the occasion demanded, but never been so completely responsible for someone he's sure could break if he handles something wrong.

Sammy takes his wounded, bird-boned heart and puts it in Jack's hands willingly, time after time, and Jack recognises that for the gift it is.

"I'll be right back," Jack promises, a little softer, and trails one finger up Sammy's dick - playfully, just to make him squirm - before he leaves the room.

The purpose of leaving is mainly to get Sammy wondering where he is and what he's doing rather than worrying about anything else, and Jack intends to keep his absence short so he doesn't step on any of his boyfriend's abandonment issues. He wanders down the hall and turns up the thermostat so Sammy doesn't get cold, definitely doesn't check any facts about BDSM on his phone as he does it, and then heads back to the bedroom with his game face on.

Sammy seems to have completely surrendered in the time he's been gone, twisting urgently to see Jack walk in but otherwise not making a sound. He's still rock hard, hips twitching absently as Jack kneels up on the bed and Sammy watches him like he hung the moon.

"Look at you, being good for me," Jack coos, careful to keep his voice far away from mocking, as he runs a hand slowly over Sammy's exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "You doing okay there, sweetheart?"

Sammy doesn't respond, too caught up in trying to raise his head enough to see Jack's fingers trailing down his body. Swallowing an affectionate laugh, because a submissive Sammy is unexpectedly cute, somehow, Jack uses his free hand to push his head back onto the pillow, at the same time as he reaches Sammy's cock and gets a strangled noise for his trouble.

"Gonna need you to use your words," Jack watches with fascination as Sammy rolls his hips up into his hand, experimental, testing, and full on whines when Jack moves out of reach.

"Fuck me," he gets out, breathy, and Jack's mouth might actually fall open because, in the history of their relationship, Sammy has never once said he wanted to be fucked.

"Baby, you…" he trails off, because Sammy already looks dick drunk and needy, flushed and looking up at him with glassy eyes. This is really doing it for him, holy shit. Jack hurriedly tries to think of a way around the request that doesn't involve 'I'm not sure you know what you're saying'. "How about I let you have my fingers and we see if you can earn my cock?"

Sammy groans at that, letting his head fall back as his hips roll desperately again. He's gorgeous, and Jack just watches him squirm for a second before shaking himself out of it and delving into the bedside drawer to grab the lube.

He intends to take Sammy apart right now, there'll be time to admire him later.

It's a beautiful thing to watch, once he gets going, as all Sammy's hard earned and tightly held control melts away like spring ice.

They don't do it a lot, once in a blue moon maybe, but Jack never tires of the way Sammy behaves with something up his ass. He gets all shivery, like he can't decide what he's feeling or fully control himself, and that response is only amplified when he's completely under Jack's spell.

He's a sight to behold right now, so responsive to every twist of Jack's fingers with none of his usual self consciousness holding him back as he fully embraces not being in control. Usually quiet in bed, Sammy's not afraid to let Jack know what feels good, and a particularly well-angled rub of his prostate has him crying out loud enough that Jack hopes their neighbours aren't home.

"How have I not been doing this the whole time?" Jack wonders aloud, not wanting to push Sammy's limits - as he's pretty sure anything near humiliation won't go down well - but he can't not praise him right now. "You're beautiful, baby. So good. Opened up so nice for me."

"I…" Sammy pants, words escaping him as he's overwhelmed with sensation. His cock is drooling all over his stomach at every press of Jack's fingers, and really, it's a _crime_ they haven't been doing this before. "Feels…"

"Feels good, huh?" Jack smirks, fully appreciating the reaction as Sammy can only nod helplessly. "You look like you're ready to come with just my fingers in your ass."

"Please," Sammy chokes out desperately, and Jack's eyes widen when he realises Sammy has been holding back for permission. Holy shit.

Firstly, he had absolutely no idea his boyfriend was that sensitive or even _able_ to come untouched, and secondly, he's going to have a serious conversation about communicating after this… whenever Sammy comes back to earth.

"Fuck. Yeah baby, you're allowed, you've been so good for me," he has to pull his own dick out to jerk off because the way Sammy full-on shudders when he finally gets permission to come is the hottest thing he's ever seen. "Come on, show me how much you like it."

He's been loud in the build up, but Sammy goes silent as he comes, screaming without a sound as he spurts hard all over himself. Jack follows him an embarrassingly short time later, fingers still working Sammy's prostate and making him shiver and writhe from the overstimulation.

It's one of the most beautiful things Jack's seen in his life. In bed, at least.

"Fuck, Sammy," he finally relents and pulls his fingers out, wiping them haphazardly on the covers (it's not like they're not gonna have to wash the sheets anyway, and Sammy is a little too out of it to tell him off for being gross). "That was…"

A spark of worry crosses Sammy's face, just for a second, and Jack remembers the situation through his sex-addled fog.

"So good," he promises, moving up to kiss Sammy's bitten lips and ensure his boyfriend stays in the blissed-out headspace he's worked so hard to put him in. Sammy relaxes again, going pliant under Jack's touch. "You're so good for me. That was awesome, holy shit."

Sammy makes a pleased sound, reassured, and lets his eyes slip closed. He looks like a different person from the jittery, defensive guy who snapped his way through the day earlier, and Jack takes no small measure of pride at being the one who put him there.

"I'm gonna take these off now," he warns Sammy, once his brain comes back online a little more, and carefully undoes the handcuffs. He checks Sammy's hands to make sure they haven't gone cold, having done probably too much safety research, and kisses the small bruises already starting to bloom across the delicate bones of his wrists where he struggled.

Of course he struggled, Jack would expect nothing less.

Sammy is still out of it when he comes back from the bathroom with a towel to clean him off. He's awake, but flexing his fingers slowly and looking up at Jack with glassy eyes like he's not fully there.

And that's when Jack realises he's gone under… about thirty minutes later than he should have noticed.

Well shit, Jack's had kinky sex before but he's never seen subspace this deep up close and personal. This is a whole new level of interesting.

"Hey baby," he strokes Sammy's cheek gently once he discards the towel somewhere on the floor, marvelling at the way his boyfriend turns his face into the touch with a slightly vacant smile. For someone who can't ever seem to stop overthinking, getting Sammy totally out of his head is nothing short of a miracle. He tries not to be afraid of the responsibility. "How you doing?"

"I want…" Sammy murmurs softly, trailing off before he can finish the request. The fact Sammy admits he wants _anything_ in bed blows Jack's mind, so he does his best to figure out what Sammy means while he's floating too far to find the words.

"What d'you need?" He pushes a little, trying to bring Sammy's focus back from wherever it's ended up above the clouds. Sammy's fingers twitch towards the cuffs discarded on the mattress beside him and wow, okay. "You want the cuffs back on, sweetheart?"

Sammy makes a happy noise in his wrecked throat, managing a vague nod before letting his eyes close again. He trusts Jack so absolutely right now, as his boyfriend fastens the cuffs back around tender wrists, that it makes his heart hurt.

He's going to have to do a _lot_ more reading up now he's seen just how deep Sammy gets into this, because this is _way_ out of Jack's league. There's no way he's going to hurt his boy by accident, not if he can help it.

"You're so good," Jack presses a kiss to the back of each of Sammy's hands once his wrists are bound, before climbing into bed beside him and pulling the covers up. Sammy moulds to his side immediately, floppy and warm and almost definitely already asleep. Content, at least.

Jack watches him for a minute with a soft smile, brushing the hair off Sammy's face and tracing the delicate shell of his ear, before switching the lamp off and grabbing his phone from the bedside table, turning the brightness down so it won't disturb. He's got reading to do.

 

"Jack."

He wakes up suddenly, to a prod in the side and Sammy's panicked voice. It's starting to get light outside, just the grey beginnings of dawn, and he has no idea what time it is.

"Jack, untie me," Sammy looks disoriented in the dim light, when Jack automatically sits up to fumble for the handcuff keys, like he's confused and doesn't know exactly what's happening right now but his anxiety is rising rapidly.

"Hey, you're okay," grateful he'd decided to sit up and research while Sammy was passed out, Jack stays completely calm as he carefully takes Sammy's wrists and unlocks the cuffs. He'd been expecting this kind of instant fight or flight, so he's not hurt by the wild look in his boyfriend's eyes. "You did really good, it's okay."

"I… You…" Sammy is definitely still out of it, looking at his freed wrists like they belong to someone else.

"C'mere," Jack pulls him into his arms, unsurprised when Sammy goes with the same pliancy which suggests he just needs someone to tell him which way is up right now, and presses Sammy's head to his chest, stroking his hair gently. "You did good, Sammy. It's okay that you liked it, I liked it too."

"I shouldn't… that much," Sammy manages, voice slow he's still half-under, and Jack shushes him softly.

"You should. You were beautiful, you made me so happy," this isn't sub drop, he doesn't think, but Jack makes a mental note to keep an eye on Sammy today regardless of how he seems when they actually get up and do stuff.

"S'embarrassing," Sammy slurs, turning his face into Jack's skin like he's not decided on the feeling, like he just wants to know if he _should_ be embarrassed or not.

Lucky for him, Jack is of the firm belief that nothing about sex is embarrassing. Especially not when it leaves the man he loves soft and still and holding onto him like he's the most important thing on the planet. And, most importantly, not worrying about anything outside this bed.

"It's not. It's awesome," Jack promises, which is enough to calm Sammy into simply huffing against his skin rather than offering another protest. "Go back to sleep, babe. You're okay."

Sammy doesn't object, stilling once more, and Jack figures a little more shuteye before they have to go out into the big bad world again doesn't sound so bad himself.

  
  


"You heard it here, boys and girls. You're listening to Shotgun Sammy on KFM, and we're locked and loaded with another badass show full of all the things you can't say on the radio."

Shotgun is in fine form tonight, lively and playful in a way he hasn't been for weeks now. And Sammy…

Sammy isn't doing too bad either.

No sign of sub drop, no lingering embarrassment - he's been practically bouncing around the studio since they got here, bruised wrists hidden under some random cord bracelets he had lying around from years ago. Jack's pretty sure tying someone up and taking away his agency until he surrenders isn't a _physician recommended_ method of dealing with anxiety… but if it ain't broke, he's going to keep getting off on it.

"I'd like to take a moment to give a shout-out to Mr Jack Wright, everybody," Jack jumps slightly to hear his name when he's not expecting it, and blinks at Sammy when he shoots him a grin across the studio. This isn't in the schedule.

"Producer extraordinaire and all around awesome guy, he's responsible for the content you guys and gals get such a kick out of, _and_ manages to keep me on a leash. Too much for one man to handle? You wouldn't think so if you met him," the look on his face is all Sammy, even if his voice remains firmly Shotgun, and Jack fights very hard to control his expression. "Jack Wright, folks - not the hero we deserve, but the one we need right now."

Sammy looks him right in the eye as he says it, and Jack's stomach flips at the sincerity only he can hear.

"Copyright infringement," he quickly yells across the studio, trying to hide his smile and inspiring a laugh from both Sammy and their waiting guest.

"See what I mean, America? So let's keep things moving and introduce our next guest…"

Jack watches his guy go, hosting with the kind of zeal which reminds him of why they loved this so much to begin with, and thinks, yeah, sometimes his crazy ideas are pretty damn good.

He opens up a new tab on his browser, one ear paying attention to the show, and gets back to working on his most important project.


End file.
